


figure eight

by clarkegrff (fayevsessays)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen, Post-Season/Series 03, post-City of Light
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-25 03:52:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6179167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fayevsessays/pseuds/clarkegrff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>murphy keeps looking at her, trying to get her eyes to focus. “she’s gone, right? she’s gone?”</p><p>ALIE.</p><p>clarke looks over at raven, who looks as broken as she does. clarke nods. once. </p><p>the relief doesn’t come. // post-season three</p>
            </blockquote>





	figure eight

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by reshopgoufa's post: http://reshopgoufa.tumblr.com/post/140431249887
> 
> warnings: this is set post-season 3 (and disregards canon after 3x07: lexa is dead in this verse)

*

the code will live on, harmlessly, in the blood of the natblidas. but the war is over. the war is won. the war has taken so much from them that when it ends, with blinding whiteness and clarke on her hands and knees in the dirt- rather than the smooth streets of the City of Light-

her hands are covered in dirt. it’s pushed up under her nails and laced with blood.

is it blood? or just liquid script?

raven is crumpled on the ground next to her and the first signs of pain are returning to her face. 

jasper hadn’t returned at all. 

clarke buries her hands in the damp mossy floor, surrounded by those that fought in the City of Light with them-

“you did it.” murphy kneels down beside her, his face wounded and sore, but his hands are gentle against her shoulder.

the air is thick and warm. the warning of oncoming rain. 

he can feel her shake under his hands again. clarke can’t stop. it’s over now. she has nothing to think about. she has everything to think about.

ALIE is gone. 

clarke looks up finally. her eyes are stinging, red and her tears fall into the tiny bleeding cuts on her face. there are no flares for their victory. no cheers. no war drums sounding out. 

silence. only her own heartbeat. 

murphy keeps looking at her, trying to get her eyes to focus. “she’s gone, right? she’s gone?”

ALIE.

clarke looks over at raven, who looks as broken as she does. clarke nods. once. 

the relief doesn’t come. 

*

clarke stares into the pen light and follows it. the circle of it burns into the back of her eyes. when her mom clicks the pen off she’s still looking at a red circle. 

there’s a small blue light hovering just out of the corner of her eye. something she’d only noticed since coming back to arkadia after leaving the City of Light. she blinks and blinks but it remains. a lasting reminder of her time in another world. 

“how’s your head?”

clarke is slow to respond and she’s not even sure she answers the question right. the pain is in her chest, not her head. 

abby sighs. “i guess that answers my question.”

abby turns back to the small table next to the medical cot and clarke looks around. she can’t seem to focus on anything. her mind is still buzzing, her mind is still trying to separate itself from the City of Light- to grasp onto reality.

her mind is fighting her. 

raven is lying on a cot on the other side of the room, asleep, while monty watches over her. he keeps throwing glances over at her, wanting to ask what happened. clarke hasn’t spoken to anyone yet. there aren’t the words. 

she can’t even speak for herself, there’s no way she can explain to monty that jasper was lost before they could ever reach him.

they were all escorted from the woods home, by warriors sent to protect them, before the aftermath sunk in. now, her brain is trying to catch up all at once. it’s too much.

“you need sleep.” her mom orders. 

clarke shakes her head. “i’m fine. i should find-”

octavia- miller- anyone to keep her mind at bay-

her mom shuts her down. “you have a room here. jackson will take you there. i don’t want you moving until i come back to check on you.”

“mom,” clarke protests weakly. 

abby touches her face. “you’re suffering from a tremendous amount of stress right now and you need to help your body through it. please, clarke.”

she doesn’t remember the journey to her room or who left the water and food on her bedside. sleep comes and goes until she can’t tell the difference between consciousness and unconsciousness as she twists in her bed sheets. 

it feels real. the walls are cool, her bed is warm, the tears she feels against her face are hot and the ache hasn’t stopped. 

it feels real.

*

there’s a pit just outside the walls of arkadia that burns constantly. the fire is replenished every time it dies out. a beacon to those passing but also a pyre for the dead.

somewhere at the bottom pike’s ashes are becoming part of the earth he tried to hard to fight for. jasper’s body is slowly crumbling too. 

clarke ignores the guards that are standing behind her as she nears the pit. she knows there’s nothing to gain by looking down at the burning bones and forcing herself to watch even as the lingering stench of death hovers over the flames. 

it’s been a few days since they’ve come back but it feels longer. clarke isn’t sure how much time passed when they were in the city of light. the climax felt quick- raven’s disrupting explosions and the code that monty had given them- bringing the too perfect world to it’s knees. 

but the time before that? that felt like days, weeks, years- clarke feels the age on her and a newfound discomfort in her joints and muscles that didn’t come with the last battles. 

she was eighteen on the ground a few months ago. who knows what that means now.

without the threat of another nuclear war, it should mean peace. it should mean that they can start to build a life on the ground. each threat crossed out, one by one. 

but now?

this is limbo. this is a shattered moment. this is the calm before the storm. 

with the City of Light gone, with pike dead, with the ice nation bowing to the coalition, with the mountain destroyed, with clarke still alive-

what next?

kane hopes for an audience with the new commander. clarke hopes she’ll eventually be able to sleep at night. the urge to start walking towards the woods again and disappear into the night like she once did is an ever present temptation. she longs for familiar faces and well known routine. 

anonymity once again.

“hey.”

clarke turns around and octavia is there, staring at the edge of the pit. 

underneath jasper’s body, underneath pike and those that fell with him, the earth welcomes lincoln. when clarke was locked away with murphy in polis wondering how much more her life could fall apart, octavia’s was crumbling too. 

octavia doesn’t come any closer. “your mom is looking for you.”

clarke nods and turns her back on the fire. she crosses her arms over her chest, wearily approaching octavia, who walks shoulder to shoulder with her back inside. 

“what’s this about?” clarke forces herself to ask.

octavia is tightly wound walking into arkadia. she never spends more than a few hours inside anymore. “council meeting. they want you there.”

“it has nothing to do with me.” clarke says. “not anymore.”

“bullshit.” octavia scoffs and clarke knows she’s right. 

as much as she wants to cut the ties from her body and leave, they won’t let her. they won’t let her forget or shrug off the responsibility now. not when she’s in this deep.

“they want to talk about the coalition.”

“it’s too late for that.” clarke remarks. the guards let them pass into the ark structure.

octavia clenches her fists and looks twice at anyone who’s gaze lingers on them for too long. even returning as war heroes, as warriors, their people just see grounders. neither of them have made any attempt to fit in since returning to arkadia. 

“kane still hopes. abby does too.”

“and your brother?” clarke asks bitterly.

octavia keeps staring straight ahead. “he wants to live.” she states. 

clarke hasn’t seen him since the City of Light and octavia won’t tell her anymore than his role in pike’s time in power and what that did to lincoln. 

bellamy doesn’t seek her out and clarke is glad. she’s not sure if she’ll ever be ready to face up to the chain of events that he helped to start.

they near the chancellor’s chambers and octavia starts to slow down. “you’re not coming inside?” clarke asks.

octavia shakes her head. “i’m not staying.”

“octavia.” anxiety creeps into clarke’s voice. 

“indra is still healing.” octavia’s eye is purple and the acid scars on her forehead are fading each day. “i need to be with her.”

“please don’t leave.” clarke can’t rein in the desperate sadness in her request. octavia flinches in surprise. 

“i’m not-” the empty hallway is the lone witness to octavia stepping forward and taking hold of clarke’s hand. “-i’m won’t- i-”

clarke bites her bottom lip and nods her head because she gets it. she knows octavia can’t stand being here. clarke knows that the decisions she made before leaving polis will haunt her for the rest of her days with the rest of her legend but she selfishly wants-

“i’ll be back in a few days.” octavia promises. “once the council decides what they’re going to do.”

clarke takes a shaky breath. “i’m sorry.”

octavia’s expression softens and hesitantly she pulls clarke closer and lets clarke bury her face into her neck. “i’m sorry too.”

they haven’t been on the same page since the missile in tonDC but this feels strangely like progress. 

octavia keeps hold of her for a moment, listening to the uneven breaths and the heaving of clarke’s chest. “i know this is hard. i feel everything you-” octavia shakes a little in their embrace. “you’re strong, clarke. and you can do this.”

she can get up in the morning. she can find purpose. she can watch out for her friends. she can pretend. 

octavia pulls away and places both hands on clarke’s tearstained cheeks. “however long it takes.”

clarke wants to believe that. “go.” octavia almost protests but clarke forces a smile. “you should go. it’s okay.”

octavia leads her to the door and presses the button so it opens. the room is lit up with screens and glass boards. the remaining council members are sat on whatever they can find with kane leaning opposite from the door.  


he stands up straight at the sight of her. “clarke.”

clarke wipes her eyes and octavia touches her elbow a final time. “i’ll see you soon.”

clarke steps over the boundary and into the room and suddenly she’s cold. she doesn’t let her expression betray the panic she felt outside with octavia. her mom watches her carefully.

“you wanted to see me.”

the chancellor’s pin is shining from kane’s guard’s jacket. 

“yes.” kane confirms. “i understand it’s a difficult time and that you want to be anywhere but here-”

all eyes are on clarke; from her muddy boots and the rough edges of her leather jacket, to the barely healed cut above her eyebrow and the dark circles under her eyes. 

“but we have work to do.”

clarke tries to shake off the weight on her shoulders but it settles again like an old friend. “then we better start.”

*

they’re ‘her’ warriors. those that kept her safe while clarke was in the City of Light. they watched over them and followed them where they walked but didn’t interfere. titus kept his promise to lexa. the new commander protects her and her warriors escort them to the capitol. 

and clarke is here acting as the olive branch to her people. she is tired. drained of purpose. and dragging her feet as they draw closer and closer to polis. 

murphy ignores how she wipes away silent tears every now and then. once they start she can’t control them. but she can hide from those that can’t see them. 

octavia sways in the saddle in front of her. she’s empty too. the battle is over and the time for mourning has come. lincoln’s death is fresh in her mind and clarke knows on some level they should shoulder through this with each other. support and care for each other. 

but the hole that lexa left is still open and every day something more bleeds out of her. she has no strength to carry lincoln from octavia’s back as well. 

murphy walks alongside her horse, warily watching everyone. he’s skittish around so many grounders and clarke understands why. but she asked him to come and, like with everything she’s asked of him since they were smuggled out of polis when the blockade was still in effect, he said yes.

“we’re getting close.” kane says. 

closer to polis. closer to the commander.

clarke closes her eyes and prays this is all a dream.

*

the meeting takes place in the throne room. clarke is sure that the light is flooding the room from the balcony and that kane is speaking in hushed, calm sentences. that octavia is standing by indra with her eyes fixed on the floor. that the world is still spinning-

but clarke is not in that room. 

murphy guards the door to a non-descript room somewhere down the hall while clarke sits with her head in her hands. she can’t keep looking at titus. lexa’s teacher is true to every word and every promise he made but every time he looks at her clarke relives him firing the gun. and when she’s not seeing that she’s seeing him turn lexa over and cut out ALIE 2.0. 

it had felt like the floor had opened underneath her then and now, after struggling and fighting against it in the City of Light, her mouth tastes like ash.

and that was before titus had even started speaking to her. 

“the conclave was quick to choose.” he informs. “and they all performed well.”

aden excelled in combat and titus names several others that made their way through the puzzles and tests. but she hasn’t seen any of them. 

“and now?” clarke dares to ask. she lifts her head. “aden?”

titus falls silent, letting it answer for him. clarke tilts her head back. of course. only one commander. only one spirit. 

only one to survive. 

clarke bows her head and asks her second question. “the 8th novitiate in l-” she pauses. “in the last conclave.”

titus’ fists are clenched when she returns his gaze. 

“-they survived.”

titus nods.

“what happened to them?”

“she lived.”

clarke grits her teeth. “lived?”

titus doesn’t avoid her gaze. “love is weakness.” 

“oh god-” clarke’s whisper dies in her mouth and she closes her eyes. it becomes too much to even think about so clarke stands and turns to the window. the fresh air cooling her anger. “did you ever stop to think that there was another way? that sparing their lives wasn’t weakness?”

titus doesn’t join her. “these are our ways, clarke.”

“and look where that has gotten you.” clarke spits back angrily. “we fought for peace. she stood for peace and we could have done it. we could have done it together.”

if you hadn’t shot her- 

“i regret a great many things.” titus says. “i have lived a long life and i have seen commanders fall more than most.”

“but i am here to protect them during their time on earth.” he finishes. 

clarke turns back to face him. “even if it means killing them?” 

titus avoids her gaze now. shame for what he has done creeps onto his face. 

clarke steps away from the window. “ALIE is gone. the commander’s purpose has been fulfilled. will you still call for the blood of children when this commander falls?” 

the commander’s spirit- the A.I chip embedded in the back of the neck of the commander- 

“it bonds with only those worthy.”

“how can a computer program deem whether or not someone’s life is worth more than another's?” clarke has had this mental battle over and over again. “and those that aren’t? who decides that they’re worth more dead than alive?”  
titus doesn’t rise to her bait. “this is how we have survived. how we have always survived.”

“and you never even considered that there could be more than that.” clarke says bitterly. “you taught her not to think for more. crushed whatever hope she had- and i suppose those who came before her.”  


she looks to the door. “and do you still think this is the way to go now?”

they’re disturbed before their discussion can go on and clarke breaks away to face the open window once more. 

titus answers the door, talking briefly with someone, before ducking back in. “the commander is on her way.”

clarke bites the inside of her cheek until the pain becomes too much. “what does she want from me?”

titus’ voice is clear and unwavering. “you are not the first person a commander has left behind. it is not unusual for them to-”

clarke feels weak. “i can’t.”

“it is an order, clarke.”

unescapable dread fills her stomach. she’s left with no choice again. “whatever the commander wants.”

titus doesn’t leave. clarke isn’t sure what he’s expecting from this. clarke never laid eyes on lexa’s body after she was taken away. she wasn’t allowed to help pass her on. there was no pyre for her body. no words that clarke could say as she burned. 

her last wish; for clarke to be protected is in the hands of this commander now. 

if wishes are reincarnated as code, as commands to the next user- what the first commander; the creator, becca, began when she walked on earth after the bombs-

then clarke is fearful of looking into the eyes of this commander and seeing exactly what she wants to see. 

sentries open the doors early. she can hear the rush of air that leaves the room. 

“heda.” clarke turns carefully on her heel to her new audience. the sentries part and the commander walks in. 

titus bows his head. “i present wanheda. clarke kom skaikru.”

clarke remembers the drip, drip, drip of her blood. black as the night. from a distance the scars she wears openly look like stars in the night sky. everything about her is different. the way she stands, the way she looks, and the way she holds herself. 

“oh.” the orange sash of the commander drops from under the shoulder guard and pools by her feet. ontari clasps her hands behind her back. “we’ve already met.”

she thinks of aden. of the hopes and dreams that lexa held for him. the promises made and a future that he was preparing for. 

the ice nation is anything but a tamed animal. their queen was killed in front of all to see. this feels like a sick joke to see her standing there, proud and open and less hostile than their first meeting-

her eyes are amber. 

clarke can’t find the words to fill the sudden ache in her chest. 

ontari nods and the sentries leave. she is the commander.

“your absence from the meeting with skaikru was noticed, wanheda.” 

clarke is hurting from the checkboxes she’s going through of all the things that are wrong. she shouldn’t be here. she should have never agreed to come back to polis. 

ontari glances over at titus seeking an explanation. 

“apologies, heda.” he says. “it is wanheda’s first time back in the capitol since-”

clarke grinds her teeth wanting him to say it for once but-

“-since you killed my predecessor.” 

clarke’s eyes shoot up to meet ontari’s, who does not twist the words into titus with the spite she hears, but gaze at her with understanding. 

“leave us.”

“heda.”

“now.”

titus stays a moment longer and then disappears through the door. clarke catches sight of murphy still waiting outside. it’s a small comfort even though neither of them are armed. she’s powerless against anything that happens now.

“your leader had much to tell me about what has happened in arkadia. the rebellion against your former chancellor. ” ontari begins. “and his desire for peace.”

ontari doesn’t move much, and clarke is grateful, but the way she holds herself fills up the entire room. 

“there is still much to talk about but-” she pauses to see if clarke will say anything. “-we all want the same things.”

peace. a strong coalition. harmony throughout the clans. this is not what she expected to hear.

clarke has to nod because this is what she wanted. this is what she wants-

“thank you for coming.”

ontari’s declaration is sincere and clarke is caught off guard. this break in clarke’s mask allows ontari the pass to approach. clarke tenses when ontari comes to stand by her though the commander doesn’t take any offence from it. 

“i know that this is not easy for you. and that you have no reason to trust me or what i say.” ontari says. “but i will try to make this as painless as possible for you.”

“that’s not possible.” clarke blurts out. ontari’s surprise is etched on her face. “i’m sorry.”

“no.” ontari nods. “i can’t imagine it will be.”

they both stare out over the city and wait for something to give. clarke knows that the back of ontari’s neck will be marred with a fresh scar where the 2.0 chip will rest. feeding her with the instincts, knowledge and experiences of the commanders before her. 

their hopes and dreams. 

“you will-” ontari stumbles after two words in a way so crushingly familiar that clarke purses her lips tightly to stop the sad sound tumbling from her mouth.

ontari faces her now. her eyes flicker from clarke’s forehead, to her neck, to her eyes, to-

“you will always have a place here.”

does the chip record everything? does it type and code and store so that the next commander can embody all that once was?

does ontari hear those echoes? 

does she feel-

clarke shakes off the thoughts before she drowns in it. “thank you, commander. but i-” she wraps a hand around her own wrist just to hold onto her resolve. “thank you.”

ontari watches her a second longer. 

“your people are welcome to stay as long as they wish.” she informs. “if you need anything, please ask.”

after that clarke doesn’t hear anything. ontari tilts her head and leaves. titus doesn’t return and clarke only realizes she’s fallen to her knees when murphy touches her face. 

“i can’t stay here.” she sobs.

murphy nods. “okay princess. we can go.”

*

clarke goes through the motions. throwing her focus into anything but what people try to bring her back to. the City of Light is gone, the questions are not. kane is walking them back into the coalition, her mother is rallying their people, those left of the farm station survivors are dwindling and clarke is dealing with the aftermath for everyone else. not herself. 

raven pays more attention to her while clarke assesses her. clarke expected raven to ignore her. she expected the rage and anger that would follow clarke dragging her from the City of Light. 

she took everything from raven and brought her back into a world of pain and hate and hopelessness. 

they are building a better world, but that takes time and-

“watch it-” raven says abruptly. clarke’s hand jumps from raven’s inner thigh, where she was pressing down to check her pain tolerance, and apparently not paying so much attention.

“sorry.” clarke replies. “how was that?”

“one step away from something you definitely can’t handle.” raven fires back. the joke falls flat but clarke forces a smile. “less painful than before.”

the only improvement since coming back had been with abby’s insistence that raven undergo surgery to ease the scar tissue on her spine. something clarke had sat in on and held raven’s hand throughout. focusing on raven’s pain was easier.

“good.” clarke nods. she props raven’s foot in her lap and unties her boot. “my mom gave you some exercises to go through-”

“every night.” raven finishes. “they hurt like a floating bitch but i do them.”

clarke continues her assessment. raven’s condition has made small steps. the chronic pain has cleared up and been replaced by something more manageable. the trikru’s knowledge of medicine has helped keep it in check. 

these physio appointments, clarke suspects, are something orchestrated by her mom to keep clarke busy. 

clarke is too tired to fight it. 

“and you?”

clarke looks up when raven asks. “me?”

raven gestures around the medical bay. there are others moving in and out working on patients. arkers and trikru together. clarke shakes her head. “i’m working.”

“are you?” raven breaches. “or are you in here from sunrise to sunset because you don’t want to deal with your mountain of issues.”

clarke stands and the stool she’s sitting on scrapes against the floor. a few people turn their way to look at them. “you’re done. my mom can see you sometime next week. keep doing those exercises.”

raven grabs the back of her shirt and doesn’t let go. “no. you don’t get to walk away.”

clarke whirls around. “i never get to walk away.” raven flinches. “i never have that choice. because i have to be better than that. i have to-”

raven scoots to the edge of the bed and stands shakily on one leg. 

clarke schools her features back into indifference. “i have a job to do.”

“clarke.”

“please, don’t.” clarke tries to put space between them. keeps her hand pressed against raven’s stomach, enforcing distance. “don’t.”

“stop fighting me.” raven is clamping down on her own tears. “stop shutting me and everyone else down when we ask if you’re okay.”

“i want you to stop asking.” clarke states. “i want you to all stop asking.”

raven clenches her jaw and clarke can see the fight in her eyes. she can see everything that raven wants to say and everything she wants clarke to do. 

and when clarke begins to refuse that, raven takes a step forward, losing her balance and forcing clarke to dip and catch raven in an embrace that raven locks into. 

“i’m here for you.” raven wraps her arms around clarke’s shoulders tightly. “i’m here, i’m here.”

clarke caves. she caves to the comfort and the weight of raven against her- she’s weak.

“i’m here.” raven whispers. “whenever you’re ready.”

raven keeps hold of her until clarke’s breathing starts to slow and she’s not shaking so much. clarke looks at her own feet when raven lets go. she means well. 

“i’m going to the mess hall. there should be dinner.” raven reaches for her brace and clarke helps her slide it up her leg and secure it. “do you want me to come with me?”

clarke tightens one of the straps and stares. her stomach is turning. empty. but the thought of having to sit in the mess hall with everyone is too much. she can still feel octavia’s eyes on her, she can’t look at bellamy and she can’t hide from murphy. 

“no,” clarke shakes her head. “i’m fine.”

*

clarke only leaves the medical bay when her mom threatens to sign her off as unfit to work. a twelve hour banishment from work that’s meant to shock her into becoming a functioning human being and not a wreck. 

her only defence is to prove that she is capable of taking care of herself. clarke showers. the temperature dips from searing hot to freezing cold and when she comes out her skin is pink and raw. she pulls on clean clothes that are distinctly hers; grey jeans and boots that she’d picked up from her time in polis, a long sleeved shirt that was once green but has faded with time. clarke runs her hands over the blue jacket that she came to the ground wearing. it’s torn at the shoulder slightly but otherwise the same as it was. 

it was what she remembers wearing in the City of Light and a part of her, a tortured, tired part of her, just wants to slip back into it and that world. 

she’s unrecognisable in these clothes. no one stares at her when she goes to the mess hall for dinner. those that meet her eyes have to look twice. clarke takes the tray of bread and meat that she’s given and claims a seat at an empty table in the corner. 

it’s not as busy yet. people are still clearing up from breakfast and letting her eat alone. 

each bite is like chewing sandpaper. 

“i was going to go with what you’re having but you don’t look like you’re enjoying it.”

clarke swallows the bread in her mouth before regards murphy. he looks in better shape than he did a few days ago. the wounds that marred his face are finally healing. she’s unused to seeing him looking clean and shaven and mostly unharmed. 

standing next to him is a young woman with a dark tattoo that runs from over her left eyebrow and across her nose and under her left eye. she observes clarke with a lazy smile and it’s clear they’ve never met before. 

“this is emori.” murphy has one hand in his pocket and the other gestures to the woman. “she was the one who helped me get away from jaha.”

“and the one who helped find the rest of ALIE’s tech.” clarke adds.

“right.” murphy nods. “emori this is clarke.”

emori’s voice is sure and confident. “it’s nice to finally put a face to the name.”

clarke nods with a stiff smile. “it’s nice to meet you.”

she’s not really prepared for them to sit down but they do and clarke makes space for them. “you need something?”

murphy shrugs. “not unless you’ve got a time machine or-” he drawls out sarcastically. 

murphy has been a constant in her life since polis but every now and then he reverts back to the boy she remembers. 

emori takes control of the conversation. “we have something for you actually.”

“we?” clarke looks between the two of them.

“more of an offer.” emori elaborates. 

“of what?”

murphy shrugs like it’s paining him to explain. “rest? peace and quiet? space from the overwhelming amount of assholes here?”

“you mean you’re staying?” clarke fires back. 

“funny princess.” murphy rolls his eyes. “i forgot you could crack a joke.”

“so did i.” clarke admits. “what are you talking about?”

emori glances at murphy and he continues. “there’s a mansion. across the dead zone. where the bitch lived, where jaha found her at least. it’s untouched by any of this shit as far as i can tell.”

“power, running water, isolation.” emori adds. 

“no one knows it’s there.”

clarke can see where he’s going with this. “and you think me running off to live in a mansion is a step up from running off and living in the woods?”

“there’s a better chance of you not dying with this option.” murphy says. at clarke’s unimpressed scoff, he sighs. 

“look, i’m not saying you should stay there and forget about the rest of the world. god knows when you disappear the rest of us go to shit.” murphy points out. 

“there’s a compliment in there somewhere.” emori jokes. 

murphy gives her a half smile. “but there? its far away. the clans don’t know about it. there’s no one coming to kidnap you or torture you for information- oh wait, that only happens to me.”

clarke tries to smile. “when do you leave?”

“couple of days.” murphy looks to emori for confirmation. “but you don’t have to come straight away.”

emori reaches into her pocket and pulls out what looks like a crude map. “the journey is not as far as most think. with the right directions,” she smirks. “just about anyone can find it.”

“well if jaha managed it...” clarke takes the folded map and studies it. the details match up to what murphy had described it being. across the deadzone, past a field of solar panels and over a body of water to what? salvation? peace?

“somewhere to heal.” emori promises. “from what i’ve heard, you more than need it.”

“again.” murphy smiles. “there’s a compliment in there somewhere.”

“thank you.” clarke offers.

the duo stick around until clarke has finished eating and she’s not sure if murphy’s original plan was to come over to make sure she was actually eating. but they leave with a wave and clarke spots emori hook her arm through murphy’s as they go. it makes her smile. 

there’s no telling whether or not she’ll go. the folded map finds a place in her pocket and is forgotten about for a few days.

when she pulls it out after a long shift in the med bay, unable to sleep, something drops from inside of it. 

the object clatters like a coin on the floor of her bedroom and clarke scrambles to turn on the light to find it. 

it takes her a second but she finds it and turns it over in her palm.

the sight of what it is almost makes her drop it to the floor again.

the sacred symbol. 

a chip.

*

it’s just as light as it was the last time and staring at it is like dying for a drink but knowing that one will never be enough. the symbol is dead center and clarke keeps flipping the chip in her hands. 

the last key to the City of Light. 

or what she left of it. destroying ALIE was destroying a piece in a larger program. there are no traces of her left there. 

but there’s no guarantee that-

the med bay is empty, like it has been all day, and clarke pinches it between her fingers. she’s been carrying it around with her for days since she found it. too scared to let it leave her possession like it’ll disappear the second she leaves it in her room. 

she knows why she doesn’t leave it. hope.

it could all still be there. the City of Light. no weakness, no pain, no envy. just freedom. freedom from all of this. a way back. 

it would be easy. easier than the other options. 

she brushes the chip against her mouth, yes or no running through her head, when-

“what the hell is that?”

raven’s voice shocks her out of her self-imposed hypnosis. the chip drops from her lips and clarke shoves it in a pocket inside her jacket. 

“raven-”

“tell me i didn’t just see what i thought i saw.” raven leans on a crutch and clarke wonders why she’d forgotten about their physio session. 

“why are you here?”

raven moves forward, her limp disguised with her speed, and doesn’t stop until she’s grabbed at clarke’s jacket. clarke avoids her and pushes back into the corner of the room.

“you weren’t in your room and i came looking.” raven eyes the pocket. 

“sorry,” clarke says. “i forgot.”

“clearly.” raven says sharply. 

“look, i can come and see you tomorrow or i can get my mom-”

“take it out.”

“what?”

raven nods to her pocket. “the chip.”

clarke doesn’t move. “raven.”

“don’t. whatever you’re about to say? i don’t care.” raven shoots back. “what i care about is i just saw you about to swallow something that looked like a fucking ALIE chip. take. it. out.”

clarke slowly puts her hand in her pocket and brings the small chip out. raven seethes with newfound rage. it bubbles up over her face and clarke can tell she’s holding herself back.

“where did you get that?”

“i-”

“we made sure we got them all. you made sure.” raven snaps. “we had to completely close the connection just incase, we had to make it safe. it wasn’t safe there-” she points at the chip. “your words, clarke. you said it was the only way.”

clarke shakes her head. “i didn’t know about this one.”

“go float yourself.” raven curses. “when do you not know about anything? you’re always the first one. nothing gets past you.”

clarke bares the full force of raven’s emotions. 

“you saw what the City of Light did to us. you saw it destroy jasper.” raven’s voice gets louder. “you saw what it did to me physically and after everything we did to kill the bitch you kept one of her keys?”

clarke isn’t tied to a tree but raven’s words cut into her skin like knives.

“you’re better than this, clarke.”

“and that means what?” clarke throws back. “that i don’t get to feel? that i have to rise above everything i’ve done and go on because i’m -better-?” 

she bares it, so they don’t have to. but what happens when the weight of the world is too heavy for her to soldier on?

“no one expects you to do this alone.” raven responds. “i don’t want to see you run off again because you couldn’t ask for help.

“right,” clarke finds her fight. “because me leaving had nothing to do with the fact i couldn’t look at any of you after what i did at mount weather.”

“we could have helped you!” raven approaches her again. “i get that you needed space, you always need space- why can’t you ever just accept that we’re here for you.”

“because i can’t do this-” clarke shouts back. “- i can’t keep feeling like this.”

“you think i wanted to still feel like this?” raven wears her anger openly. she refuses to let clarke look away from her, following her around until there’s nowhere left for clarke to turn. “you think i wanted to come back from the City of Light? i did that for you. because you said there was no other way.”

“and if you’re the person i know you are, you won’t go back on that.” raven points to the chip. “you’ll destroy that and end this like you should have done weeks ago.”

“it’s not as simple as that!” clarke’s resentment boils over as raven gets closer and her excuses run thin.

raven pushes on. “you’re not the only one hurting clarke- you don’t know what leaving cost me!-”

“it cost me everything!” clarke yells back so suddenly that raven stops still. 

“what?”

“i didn’t want to come back.” clarke feels it all pouring out of her. “why would i want to come back here when every day all i feel is empty. when i have to wake up knowing that i got one- moment- when-”

they all stuck together. raven infiltrating with murphy leading them where they needed to go. all except for one moment that ALIE had managed to separate them. 

clarke breaks out into sobs that quake through her body, forcing her to the ground. raven sinks to her level, with difficulty, and takes hold of her hand. 

“god, clarke-” it dawns on raven just who clarke is talking about.

“she kept fighting, she kept me alive in there.” clarke can barely get the words out as she recounts. “and i had to watch her knowing that i was going to destroy ALIE. that i would be destroying any chance of seeing her again.”

“i came back. i came back because i had to. because i had to make sure we all survived this.” clarke feels the tears rolling down her cheek. “and that meant i had to leave her behind.” 

raven takes hold of her. gripping her shoulders and steadying her. “you don’t have to do this alone. you never have to do this alone.”

“you can’t take this.”

“you can’t take much more, clarke.” raven assess her. “i haven’t seen you eat in days. you can barely stand. your mom-”

clarke tries to push back. “you can’t tell her.”

“i don’t need to.” raven says. “i’m not the only one worried about you.”

“i don’t need help.” clarke begs. “please raven, just let me handle this.”

raven doesn’t let go of her. she doesn’t let any of clarke’s words sink in nor does she believe them. “you handle it or we will.”

raven crawls to her side and clarke finds herself wrapped in an embrace, her nose pushing into raven’s neck. she can’t remember the last time she let herself-. “-’we’?”

raven tries to smile, tries to rouse her with affection. “like i said, i’m not the only one worried about you.”

clarke cries again and raven holds her close. “i’m here. i’m here.”

for now, it’s enough.

*

the chip is lost at the bottom of her bag and she’s not going to give it over. it’s safer in her hands, she supposes, or that’s what clarke tells herself. the rest of her things sit on top of it; clothes, medical supplies, water. she still doesn’t have an appetite. her father’s watch, which was recovered from the mountain before it was destroyed, is attached to the handle of the bag. it no longer works. 

she tells raven a few days later where she’s going. that murphy offered her time and a place to heal her mind. that staying at the ark is killing her like it’s killing octavia and she can’t cope with that.

“it’s not running away.” 

raven grinds her teeth. “it’s not as long as you come back.”

“i’ll come back.” clarke promises. 

raven hugs her before she leaves and watches clarke slip out through the panel leading to the outside. no one else will know. 

clarke finds the trail that leads towards the dropship and stays only long enough to pay her respects. she remembers which grave belongs to wells and marvels at the flowers that have started to grow over it. 

the path takes her west. her boots sink into moss and mud for the first few days before they make way to gravel and sand. clarke looks up and the trees have disappeared. the wasteland in front of her is barren and hot.  
and clarke can’t remember when she last drank anything.

the last trading post? the stream? 

the horizon is sizzling and distorted and the map tells her to keep walking. clarke wears her hood up and covers her mouth with a scarf to stop the sand getting up her nose. her footsteps disappear as quickly as they’re made.  


and she’s lost. 

clarke stops at the thought. stops and feels lighter. 

the itch in the corner of her eye where the blue light remains, always, returns and she keeps trying to look directly at it. she chases it with her eyes closed and when she opens them a violent nausea overcomes her. 

whatever was left in her stomach is forced up and clarke heaves it out on the sand in front of her. 

when she stands up, she sways dangerously, black spots plague her vision and she has one thought before her body fails and she collapses backwards into the sand.

raven’s going to kill her.

*

her mouth tastes like vomit. it wakes her up before she can open her eyes and she’s rolling over on soft ground to spit the bile out. it comes out in shuddering coughs and leaves her throat dry in response. pain follows. starting in her stomach and flooding out to her ribs. 

clarke gasps for air and opens her eyes. 

she’s alive.

solid brick walls. a cool breeze that combats her overheated body. soft furs beneath her. candles flickering, standing out, even in daylight. the smell of burning wood. 

she’s failed.

she sits up too fast and empties her stomach again on the stone floor. not here. not here. 

her legs can’t support her well enough and clarke stumbles from the bed into the side table. a tray crashes to the ground, shattering the cup of water and the bowl of soup when it hits the ground. the noise is loud and clarke whirls around as sentries burst into the room looking for an enemy. 

“no.” clarke croaks out. “no.”

she’s not back here. back in this room without lexa. how dare they-

“where’s my bag?” clarke turns her back on the sentries, her first mistake, and lunges for a piece of broken glass on the floor. 

she’s settled it in her hand when they grab her and twist her wrist so quickly that clarke drops the glass with a scream. 

her nerves scream as they handle her. desperation kicks in and suddenly they’re dragging her away from the bed and to the floor, holding her down to stop her from lashing out at them. the energy she doesn’t have to spare is wasted against their strength and she blacks in and out of consciousness while they try to calm her. 

she can’t be here. she was gone. she was free. 

“give me my bag-” clarke begs. “give-”

give her peace.

the guards are inside the room when she wakes up again. the broken glass is gone and a new meal sits to the side of her. a handmaiden approaches her when clarke has been awake for a few minutes. the woman is hesitant and waits until clarke nods to do anything. 

the woman touches her forehead and her hand is gloriously cold. whatever she deems from clarke’s temperature sets her into a myriad of actions. cold towels changed on her forehead over what seems like hours. constant fluids. hands poking, prodding, moving, shifting, cleaning. 

clarke throws up more than once when they start reintroducing her to food. 

she catches worry in the eyes of those that see her and doesn’t truly understand what’s happening until she wakes to titus standing at the bottom of her bed.

“i swore that no harm would come to you.” he shakes with poorly concealed frustration. 

clarke’s eyes swim through the haze of her fever to focus on him. he looks the same as when she left polis and the time before that. it hurts to look at him. 

it hurts to be in this room.

just to be here. 

“i never thought you would be foolish enough to threaten your own life.” titus judges. 

“clearly you underestimate me.” clarke retaliates. 

“i thought more of you than this.”

“did you?” clarke retorts. “because you would have been more than happy for me to waste away and die if that meant lexa would respond with war-”

“i will not dwell on the past-”

“no, you will- because if it wasn’t for you she would be alive!” clarke gathers what strength she has left to sit up. “-you just had to wait one second. i would have been gone, my people would have done what needed to be done and you would have peace! and she-”

“she is dead!” titus bellows. “and i will not let you follow her to the grave-”

“and that’s supposed to make me want to carry on?” clarke replies. “i should stay alive because if i don’t, you’ve failed her?”

titus falls silent. 

clarke shakes. “you should have thought about that when you brought that gun to my room.”

she thinks he’s going to leave. there’s no quick retort that follows the truth and titus calls for the sentries to come in. clarke shifts on the bed, uneasy at their presence. 

“i am not here to convince you to value your own life, clarke.” titus explains. “only you can do that.”

clarke stares at him.

“but your actions will have consequences that will reach far more than you think.” titus reminds her. 

“the world spins on. time heals” clarke shoots back. she laughs before continuing. “or so they tell me.”

titus nods and the sentries flank the bed. clarke tenses up. “what are you doing?” her heart flutters. there’s no gun this time but clarke still fears-

“showing you the consequences.” titus states. 

the sentries take hold of her. they are firm and have her standing on weak legs, using their strength to drag her until her walk becomes more than just a broken step. 

titus leads them and clarke burns holes into his back. the corridor is lined with guards that only increase as they reach their destination. 

“please,” clarke shakes her head. “no.”

the consequences of her actions become clear. the torture of seeing ontari sat upon the commander’s throne. the sash pouring out from her shoulder guard to the floor. the scars on her face preventing clarke from blinking just to imagine something else. 

“Ai ste shoun of clarke kom skaikru.” titus announces her but ontari isn’t looking at her. she’s staring at something in her hand.

clarke is forced forward to stand just at the foot of the steps before the throne. their time apart has not removed the discomfort clarke has at seeing her. 

“every time we meet i feel your legend grows.” ontari declares, distractedly. “children talk of the mighty wanheda as much as their heda. i have seconds who cannot wait to go out into battle in the hope they will find you wandering the battlefield blessing the dead.”

clarke says nothing. 

“they are corrected.” ontari beholds her. “wanheda does not bless the dead. she condemns the living.”

clarke lifts her chin defiantly and ignores the urge to tell the commander that means she should be wary of her. because that worked so well the first time.

“but she protects her people.” ontari turns to a new point. “as i do.”

“i cannot ignore my duty. my people come first.” she gazes down at clarke. “you sacrificed so much to defeat my oldest enemy- your actions brought an end to the war the first commander fought against-”

“a war she started-” clarke interrupts. 

“and you ended.” ontari cuts her off. “the commander of death. mountain slayer-”

“stop-” clarke growls.

“-wanheda-”

“stop!”

“you don’t get to hide away!” ontari stands. her voice is so much different, so much louder- “the City of Light is a plague. it is a lie to think there is something there for you- that you will find anything other than the death and destruction that you left in your wake!”

sentries enter the throne room with a basin. they place it on a box that comes up to ontari’s waist. a lone guard passes her a small stick burning at the end and she drops it in the basin. the fire catches whatever is inside and sparks a healthy flame. 

over the fire, ontari looks at her and clarke finally sees what she has in her hand. 

“there is nothing there for you.” ontari holds the chip between her fingers, letting the light catch it. 

clarke realizes too late.

“no- no!” clarke resists as much as she can but ontari has already dropped the chip into the basin and fire consumes it. the air fills with an electric crackle and hope drains from her body. 

she’s held back from the basin before she can reach it. ontari can’t mask the despair on her face when it becomes clear that clarke was willing to put her hand in fire to retrieve the chip. 

ontari directs her voice to the sentries present. “the City of Light is no more. it’s agents and their tools are enemies to the thirteen clans. any person found possessing any key, any item, or technology with the symbol of the commander is to be brought before me to answer for their crime.”

“i want it wiped off the face of the land.” ontari declares. 

clarke glares. “you had no right-”

“i am heda.” ontari refutes. “i have every right.”

“that was the last key-” clarke says. “that was the only thing i had left-”

“you would be wise not to place importance on something which no longer-” 

“it was all i had!” clarke struggles against the sentries keeping her in place. 

“but it is not all that matters!” ontari loses some of her stoicism. “you have lost sight of what matters. your people may tolerate this disintegration but i have no such patience.”

“i’m nothing to you.” clarke spits out. “my life means nothing to you.”

“your life-” ontari stalls over the words. “-matters.”

it’s weak. it’s for show. it’s nothing.

“not to you. not to anyone here.” clarke ignores titus’ strained look in the corner. “you should have left me in the desert to die- you had no right to interfere with that.” 

“wanheda-” titus rejoins only for clarke to snap back at him.

“i don’t want to be here-” it wells up inside her. the self-loathing that has been blocking her for weeks. she didn’t walk into the desert to find salvation. it wasn’t running away if she couldn’t make it back. “-and you took that choice away from me-”

“you do not have my permission to die!” ontari whips around. her jaw is tight and clarke can see the vein in her neck stand out as she bares her teeth angrily. the scars on her face stretch. 

clarke is taken aback by the emotions she shows.

“this is for your own good.” ontari’s voice is tempered with exasperation. “you will not do this again. you will heal yourself. you will take care of yourself. you will eat and you will grow strong or you will force my hand.” she looks so angry at something that isn’t hers to be emotional over. clarke can see black spots in her vision and the guards grip her arms to keep her standing before the commander. but clarke can’t bring herself to care. 

ontari takes several steps forward, schooling her face into a stoic expression that looks more like she’s borrowing from someone else. she goes right for the throat with her words. “starving yourself until you black out in the dead zone is not what lexa would have wanted.”

clarke grits her teeth, shaking on her feet and she frees herself from the grip of the guards to step forward. ontari still towers over her but clarke gathers what little strength she has to throw off her words. “what the hell do you know about what she wants.”

“everything!” ontari roars back to her face. “i know everything. i see everything. i feel everything-” ontari tremors. “do you not understand?”

clarke’s heart, so used to the mile a minute pace in her chest, slows so fast that the realisation hits her full force. 

“are you so blind to think she would ever let me ignore this?” ontari lets it show on her face, coming to stand within an arm’s length of her. the turmoil in her amber eyes and hidden in the depths of her expressions.

a cold sweat overcomes her and clarke almost rears back from the revulsion that ontari shows. “you’re not her. you will never be her.”

“no.” ontari agrees, bitterly. “and i can’t forget that.”

lexa is her past. lexa is running through her nervous system and clinging to the cells in her bloodstream. it’s filling her mind and pulsing in her heart and polluting her mind-

“but i have to do this for her.” ontari stands determined, painfully affected by misplaced affection. “you’re mine to protect.”

it shatters her soul. clarke wants to reach inside the depths of ontari’s body and pull the spirit from her. she wants to fall and never get up. she wants to let go. 

“i’m not yours.” clarke defies and it’s the final stinging rejection that has ontari giving up. 

ontari doesn’t move, just staring into her eyes. clarke doesn’t know what she’s looking for and the longer ontari matches her gaze, the harder it becomes when clarke notices the way she swallows once before speaking.

“you will eat. you will rest. you will survive.” ontari orders finally. no room to argue. “teik em we.”

the guards find it easy to move her from the throne room and steer her down the hall and then up a level. the room they lead her to is different but her stomach rolls all the same. 

clarke sits at the bottom of the bed, bringing her legs to her chest just in time to hide the outpouring of tears and shuddering whimpers.

she can’t decide what hurts more.

ontari vowing to keep her alive out of an inescapable duty and guilt for feelings she can’t control. 

or knowing that even death isn’t strong enough to sever lexa from the world. 

*

clarke spends a year in polis and it’s not about running away. 

everyday is a struggle. every meal is hard to swallow. every meeting she sits in and has to hear ontari’s voice is another knock against her rib cage. 

but she learns to manage. to cope.

her life doesn’t rebuild overnight. clarke wakes countless times from tempting dreams and taunting nightmares. she screams and rages and goads warriors into fighting her until they refuse to. commander’s orders.

it takes even longer for the lingering desire to die recedes. 

but it does.

her people become her strength and that strength carries her through. 

titus arranges for her to work with their healers and though it never gets easier to be around him, clarke is able to talk with him. not about everything. not about her. 

he tells her mom where she is and handles her worry and anger. kane must visit because there are times when titus advises her on where to be and times when she should keep clear. it eases the tightness in her chest.

ontari never pushes. 

a part of her knows that ontari is torn whenever she sees her. she is the commander. she is different than she was the day clarke tried to poison queen nia; no longer a fury driven warrior disguised as a water girl, begging for the chance to hurt her and present her on a platter to the highest bidder. 

she is calm, quiet and firm. 

clarke can’t think about how much of that is ontari and how much is the spirit embedded in the back of her neck. because if she does then she has to question everything. 

but she learns that ontari is respectful and wary of her. like clarke could crush her before ontari could raise her sword.

it means that the only time they spend together is in silence, with clarke believing that a part of it offers ontari comfort and feeling something close to that in return.

when she leaves polis, on the back of a horse and followed by a protective war party, she fixes her father’s watch and straps it to her wrist. time begins again, close to twenty one, and healing.

*

arkadia is a flourishing clan. their lands become fertile for farming in a way that seems to spite pike’s short memory. clarke returned and faced everything she left behind.

octavia’s grief simmers quietly now and her time is spent learning how to be a warrior in peacetime. monty has kept busy but found happiness again. bellamy sees her across the mess hall one day and clarke doesn’t cry when he waves at her because that would be embarrassing. and raven-

raven holds her hand one morning after clarke finishes examining her leg and it shocks her so much that clarke headbutts raven’s chin-

“i’m sorry- god-” clarke steadies raven’s head and doesn’t realize raven is laughing at her until she’s slapping clarke’s hands away from her.

“you don’t hit that hard.” raven says. she takes clarke’s hand again and gives her a shy smile. “sorry, sometimes i just-”

clarke squeezes her hand. “just what?”

“i didn’t think you were coming back this time.”

neither of them did. 

“a friend once told me that-” she takes raven’s brace from the bed and starts to pull it back up over raven’s leg. “-i didn’t have to do this alone.”

raven’s smile is so much sweeter when she’s trying to hold back tears. “sounds like a smart girl.”

“eh, she’s alright.” clarke begins strapping raven’s leg when it becomes clear that raven is letting her. “still thinks that she’s hot shit because she’s an engineer.”

raven slides off the examining table and smirks. “damn right. you should keep her around.”

“trust me.” clarke swings their hands together. “she’s impossible to get rid of.”

*

she’s twenty eight when she sees finn collins. 

she’s a healer now. she has responsibility pushing down on her shoulders and keeping her from floating back towards the stars before her time. there are people that rely on her to sooth their fevers and mend their bones and stitch up their wounds.

the soft hands she brought to the ground with her are rough now. 

rough from work and fighting and clinging desperately to life. the softness returns in brief flashes; touching octavia’s cheek trying to push the skin underneath her eye back enough to start to glue it together-

the shuddering sound of a baby’s chest when it takes its first breath in her arms-

the feeling of charcoal as she rubs pieces of it in her fingers. 

but now she is rough. 

it’s unity day and despite the truth, despite the horrific meanings that she now knows make up the reasons for this day, she still makes the trek from arkadia to the dropship. 

she usually goes by horseback, avoiding the moss and the mud, which is why she isn’t able to see the trip wire before her shin has pushed against it. 

clarke is jolted back by a sudden arrow to her left shoulder. before she hits the ground she’s wondering if it’s lucky that it missed her heart or not-

twenty eight and still walking the line.

her body is screaming. she needs to fix this. get up. get up.

but a heaviness sets in. a familiar blue light blinks in the corner of her eye, like a cursor waiting for her to move it, and clarke- for a second, relaxes to it.

it would be so easy. she didn’t cause this. she just didn’t fight it.

in the end, everything is forgivable.

except, she can’t with someone watching her. 

clarke turns her head to the right and he’s there, still wearing the blue jacket he was wearing when they landed, looking at her with a pleading expression.

“you have to get up.” 

finn collins is the same boy he was when before she killed him. his hair, shorter after raven cut it, but his face streaked with dirt. his eyes aren’t haunted. 

clarke isn’t the same as she was. older and harder and her eyes can’t get rid of everything she’s seen. everything’s she’s done.

“the dropship- it has what you need.” finn kneels on the ground next to her.

clarke pushes the skin around where the arrow is embedded into her and she gasps at the sudden pain. finn doesn’t disappear. 

“clarke, get up.” he begs.

“i don’t understand.” clarke can feel shock coming on now. the pain, the impact, the bleeding- red.

finn looks conflicted, like he wants to hold his hands out for her, a stark contrast to his silence back when she first saw his ghost.

“get to the dropship.” finn says. “please clarke. it’s not far.”

she can’t do this if he’s here. she can’t slip away unnoticed with the promise of peace. her body wouldn’t be found for days and the rain would wash away any traces of her struggle. 

but she can’t, because he’s here.

searing pain ripples out when she sits up. clarke whimpers loudly getting to her knees, then her feet. she slips her back from her shoulder because dragging it with her is less painful than keeping it on her back. 

“that’s good, you’re doing good clarke.”

he sounds so real. he looks so real. it’s been ten years and she seeing him makes her heart burst- for what she felt, what she feels, what she did.

“i’m sorry.” she chokes out, stepping close to the trees so she can lean against them as she walks. 

finn is in front of her, stepping backwards while he coaxes her in the direction of the drop ship. “you can be sorry and alive later.”

clarke grimaces as a chuckle escapes. laughing hurts. walking hurts. but finn keeps reaching out with his hand and clarke keeps walking towards him. never looking away incase he disappears before she gets to where she needs to be.

she wasn’t too far away from the dropship before the tripwire so finn doesn’t have to keep her moving for long until she’s stumbling across the green grass in the dropship yard. her heavy feet make clunking noises as she heads inside. 

it’s still smells the same, even after a decade. the smell of sweat and blood and ash is dying over time but they spent so much time here, there was so much happening in those first few weeks, that it never truly leaves the floors and the walls inside. 

“under the table.” finn leads her to where the table where he once lay while she and raven extracted a knife from his ribs. 

clarke falls to her knees and sweeps her hand along the floor until she finds a bundle tied with a rope.

her hands a trembling and she’s starting to feel lightheaded as she unties it. a small box falls out, along with a knife and clarke groans, knowing what she has to do. 

the box is one of lincoln’s old medic tins. inside she identifies the vials; one to treat poison, one to induce sleep, one to slow bleeding, one to dull pain.

clarke doesn’t have anything to start a fire with to heat a blade so she rummages through her own bag in the hope that she still has her own kit. 

finn watches her with worry as she pulls out a surgical stapler. little victories. 

clarke grips the edge of the table and pulls herself, and her kit up. 

“clarke you’re going to pass out soon.” 

clarke shakes her head. “no i’m not.”

she’s danced on the edge of that consciousness. she knows her limits. she sets everything down in front of her and uncaps the vial for easing pain. it’s a familiar shot. 

finn can only stand on the other side of the table while she slowly spreads the wound and pinches the stem of the arrow. if it won’t go through, it has to come out. her screams echo around the drop ship. her fingers catch the metal head of the arrow and clarke looks up at finn because she needs something to focus on-

she loses her voice pulling it out completely and it’s only through practice that she doesn’t stop there. clarke grabs the stapler and pushes the skin together. she breathes in and out rapidly before punching several staples into the area until it holds together. 

“you gonna be okay, you did it.”

clarke sways on her feet and reaches for her bag again. fumbling around until she finds her radio at the bottom of it. the white noise has never sounded so good. 

the bleeding stops for now and clarke knows that arkadia will send someone out for her once her message is received and everything will be fine.

“thank you.”

clarke turns and meets empty air. the sheets over the front of the drop ship wave in the breeze and finn is gone. he’s gone. 

clarke chokes back a sob and sinks to the ground. 

it’s not the first time she’s been glad that some people didn’t survive long enough to see what she’s become.

*

she’s thirty one and her legend is becoming a myth. little trikru children still address her as wanheda whenever she visits outlying villages to teach their healers. they are a new generation that has known only small battles and never suffered through serious war. 

her story is exciting to them. as it is to the children on the ark. 

the legendary wanheda. commander of death. mountain slayer. chief medical officer on the ark. 

they say she survived falling from the sky and laid waste to villages. took on hundreds of grounder warriors and unleashed fire against her enemies. she does not break with torture, that she turns her enemies over to her side, a silver tongue and an even deadlier mind. 

they talk about the mountain and how she brought it to her knees, single handedly. wiping an entire people from the face of the earth.

they talk of her struggles to, her time wandering the land until she returned to bring vengeance for her people with the Commander by her side. 

there are so many instances of that. they talk of how pike fell to his knees before she called for his death. how she managed to best the king of azgeda. how she brought peace in the face of violence.

the power to grant life as well. 

“now i think you’re making things up,” clarke bandages a young boy’s arm. he hasn’t stopped talking since he walked into her medical bay with a sprained wrist. he’s an arkadian child but he has trirku wonder in his eyes. to him, she is all powerful.

he continues as if it is his sacred duty to let her know how great she is. “you forgave the last mountain man and they say-”

“who are ‘they’?” clarke jokes. 

“they say he’s cursed to wander the earth forever and ever mourning his losses, never to rest.”

the young boy’s excitement peaks and jackson wanders over to interrupt. clarke doesn’t ruin the boy’s imagination with the truth that emerson only lasted a few months in the dead zone before he succumbed to his madness. 

emori came across him on her way back to visit arkadia with murphy, half buried in the sand, dead.

thus endth the line of the mountain men.

“you should be fine. don’t use that arm until you get checked over again.” clarke tells him. the boy nods seriously. “you can go back to class now.”

he hops off her table and stares up at her happily. “thank you wanheda.”

clarke looks back at jackson after the boy leaves. “i wasn’t aware i was becoming a part of the curriculum.”

jackson shrugs with a smile. the lines around his eyes are deep and she’s thankful to have him working with her. “you’re a part of our history now, clarke.”

“well, if that’s how they see me-” clarke cleans her hands, feeling tired. “i wonder how much bellamy is embellishing his own actions.”

jackson laughs. “he is their teacher.”

“yeah,” clarke rolls her eyes. “so he can tell them whatever the hell he wants.”

* 

octavia is twenty nine and still sleeping under the stars. still starting fights and finishing them. still sneaking through arkadia instead of using the front gate-

octavia holds her hands over her head as clarke’s knife just grazes the tip of her chin. “i should have announced myself.”

clarke drops her arm down. “jeez octavia.” her eyes dart back to the digital clock flashing above the cot she was sleeping on. “what are you doing here?”

octavia lowers her hands. “sneaking away with some medical supplies. bandages.”

“at three in the morning?”

octavia looks at the blankets on the floor. “i didn’t think anyone would be here.”

clarke doesn’t answer. she walks to the supply cupboards at the back and pulls out some gauze and bandages. she has to stop for a second as she feels sick, no doubt something she’s ate again, before she can return.

“don’t you have a room here?” octavia jokes. “i’m sure i’ve walked past a door with your name on it a couple of times.”

“can’t sleep in it.” clarke wraps the bandages in a cloth bag and holds it out to octavia. “i get headaches from the lights in there.”

“you can always come with me.” octavia offers. “it’s not so cold outside and i’ve been told i’m very warm.”

clarke presses her lips together with tired amusement. 

octavia takes the bag and her expression softens. “thanks.”

she waits, like she always does, for clarke to say something else and only moves when she doesn’t. 

naturally, when she does, clarke says something. “how’s indra?”

octavia smiles. “still trying to kick my ass.”

“her lungs-”

octavia shrugs. “she’s still keeping active. winter isn’t kind to any of us.”

“keep an eye on her for me.” clarke asks. “and i can come and see her if she needs me.”

“she’ll never admit that,” octavia grins. “still stubborn as hell.”

clarke jokingly mutters ‘damn grounders’ under her breath and octavia shoves her shoulder. a phantom pain flickers from her shoulder but it’s been years since the old arrow wound has bothered her. 

“and you? still stubborn as hell?” clarke asks. 

octavia nods. “you wouldn’t want me any other way.”

she’s a wanderer. a warrior. her time in arkadia is always fleeting and clarke knows she’s not the only one who misses her when octavia is gone. but clarke knows that the ark was never octavia’s home and even without lincoln, octavia has found her place with the trikru. 

octavia makes a move again and clarke closes her eyes, briefly reminding her to see raven before she leaves. 

“beat you to it,” octavia calls back. “at least she had the decency to threaten me with an unloaded gun.”

octavia slips away and clarke collapses back onto her cot. sleep comes quickly.

*

thirty five is a lifetime away from her first days on the ground. a whole generation of kids have grown up on the ground never knowing life on the ark. kids that she’s helped deliver and treat and teach. kids that have a future free from space. 

thirty five and waking up in her room, looking across at raven awake in her own bed tinkering with something for work-

clarke presses a hand to her head and feels the aches settle in. she has a full day ahead of her. a lot of patients; several expectant mothers who will no doubt ask when she’ll think about her own children and politely stop when clarke asks them to talk about something else; minor surgeries to ease pain and correct-

a lot of distractions.

clarke goes to the sink and splashes water on her face. raven yelps in the background as something sparks and clarke is about to ask what’s wrong when she catches sight of herself in the mirror-

more specifically two of herself- 

clarke blinks but her sudden double vision doesn’t stop. the little blue light she’s come to ignore is still there, just the one, so she knows it’s something physical and not mental but-

“clarke?”

clarke dries off her face and tries to act normal. “yeah?”

“you okay?”

dread has her gripping the sink. “never better.”

*

an unsecured beam falls from one of the sentry towers and crushes three people. it’s four in the morning and clarke is elbow deep in one man trying to save his life. 

she’s not calm but she fools them all. the adrenaline rushes through her as she works to stabilize the man while jackson tries to do the same to the only other survivor. they’re stretched thin and relying on their students to help them complete their delicate and stressful work.

it’s the first time in a while that clarke experiences failure. 

it’s the first time in a long while that she’s unable to save someone.

it’s pushed down and repressed. her students need her reassurance. the way her mother would do it if she had lived to see sixty. clarke is still covered in blood and sweat and listening to the deafening ring of the machines when she’s finally left alone.  


no survivors. 

she just manages to wash the blood off her hands when her body seizes up. 

it’s paralysis and panic. her brain burns and her body hits the floor, crashing into a station of medical tools as it does. 

the noise is the only reason jackson finds her so quickly.

*

she locks the results and the scans in a box after she looks at them and vows never to let them see the light of day. 

jackson sits on the chair opposite. 

clarke sighs deeply but resigned. “it could be worse.”

jackson doesn’t believe that. “it could?”

clarke can still smile. because really? if there was a best case scenario, this wouldn’t be far off. “i could have died the moment i stepped out of the dropship.”

*

the double vision gets worse in the mornings and the blue light in her eyes becomes harder to ignore. 

and even though she says nothing, and jackson keeps quiet, those closest to her know that something has changed. 

clarke delves into teaching and fixing. no string left untied. nothing left untouched. she visits octavia in tonDC and brings medicine for indra. she sits for hours listening to the two of them talk about their lives and octavia’s second. 

clarke settles by the fire at night and lets octavia curl around her protectively. in the morning she finds octavia tracing patterns along her arm so softly that she wants to cry. 

“how long?”

clarke shakes her head. “i don’t know.”

octavia pushes clarke onto her side and holds her again. she says nothing but brushes her nose against the back of clarke’s neck. 

later, once they’re awake and fed, octavia does the unthinkable and follows her home. she carries clarke’s pack and suddenly the room clarke shares with raven is home to another. 

raven gets home from the workshop, grease over her hands and clothes to see them sharing food. clarke gets to witness, wonderstruck, how raven ignores octavia’s protests about how gross she is but let's raven hug her tightly- even as she gets dirt all over octavia’s face. 

it’s not long before they drag her in as well and in that embrace they’re everything their eighteen year old selves wish they were. happy and safe and together. 

*

whatever messages she’s giving off with throwing herself into work and octavia coming home pay off. 

clarke is finishing off tidying the medical bay. a night in her room, squashed in a just about single bed between raven and octavia with whatever alcohol she can smuggle from the mess hall, is all that she has planned. 

but bellamy holds himself nervously in the middle of the room looking so lost that clarke abandons those thoughts.

they haven’t spoken more than a few words to each other outside of work and council meetings in years. but he doesn’t hold back now. 

“you’re sick.” he’s starting to look old now. grey wisps highlight his hair and the old scars are whiter against his cheek. 

clarke’s palms sweat. “yes.” she admits. 

bellamy nods stiffly. “can you fix it?”

clarke’s restraint wavers and she bites the inside of her cheek before speaks. she thinks of the scans, the dizziness, double vision and the spots inside her head. “not this time.”

the colour drains from his face and becomes ashy. “clarke,”

“it’s okay.” clarke utters. 

bellamy is strong and perhaps that’s why she can be honest about this. because he still shakes when he hugs her. because underneath the lines of his face and the shadows still on his back, there’s still a boy willing to lay down his life for those he cares about. “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.”

“i know.” clarke murmurs into his chest. “it’s gonna be okay.”

maybe they don’t have the time to do this, to rehash everything that happened, but clarke has rarely ever been able to forgive someone before they’ve stopped breathing shortly after.

maybe this is her curse. she became death long before she commanded it. 

*

wanheda returns to polis once more.

clarke didn’t expect to be back. her contact with titus has been frequent but professional. 

but octavia had hovered over her, scared to death in the middle of the night, when she’d woken up to clarke seizing and clarke had realized that she couldn’t die in the place that she was born.

it’s spring and dew coats the grass from arkadia to polis. the sun is warm and people still call out her name when she rides in. 

octavia helps raven from her horse. monty takes in the capitol for the first time. bellamy still hides his face in a hood because this isn’t about him. murphy greets them at the door.

clarke laughs and murphy smiles. “what? you can’t get rid of me.”

titus is old now, his breathing laboured more than usual as he instructs a new generation of natblida, in the ways of their people. clarke listens in to the sound of peace and fairness and knows they will grow without fear of death in the wake of the commander’s spirit rejecting them.

they look at her in awe and in them she will live on. stories and adventures. a girl who fell from the stars. a girl who will wander the earth forever. 

ontari is beautiful. 

it’s something she couldn’t admit before because it’s not a beauty that even compares. 

but she is smiling when they meet again, and still keeps a brave face when she introduces clarke to the woman she shares her life with. 

time heals. 

clarke stands on the balcony and watches the sky bleed into orange as the sun goes down. ontari joins her when her ambassadors have turned in for the night. 

and there’s a moment when clarke feels the pull of something, tugging her just back from the edge, keeping her at a safe distance. 

“i meant what i said-” ontari voices. 

ontari has said many things over the years. clarke waits. 

“that you will always have a place here.” ontari faces her. “i’m-”

clarke finds what she lost in the pause of ontari’s sentence. the unsure, the uncertainty, the hope-

“i’m sorry.” time has eased the scars on her face but hasn’t dulled the brightness in her eyes. the orange sky casts a warmth over their skin. 

they stay like that for a while looking out over the city until the stars start to come out. 

ontari speaks first. “if you need anything while you are here, please ask.” her hand twitches. “for you or for your friends.”

that offer causes a lump to well up in her throat. the finality of it all starts to crash in on her and clarke can only nod. 

the commander gives her a moment before excusing herself. clarke can face the night alone, in the warmth of her room, and know that tomorrow will be another day. but those are only guaranteed for a few.

“ontari.” clarke follows her from the balcony and doesn’t stop. 

confusion laces over everything but clarke ignores that first warning, that second and third and reaches out to touch ontari’s face. 

her skin is different. her eyes are wide, pupils blown, and her lips are pressed together. the contact does something to her though. the signals still flashing beneath her skin go into overdrive and clarke just needed to have that just once.

“clarke.”

clarke removes her hand and it all stops. “goodnight commander.”

ontari nods, dazed and uncomposed. “goodnight clarke.”

that night she’s able to dream.

*

charcoal mornings and peaceful nights follow that day. 

she is never in want of visitors and more than once raven has had to shoo out young natblidas who all wish to hear of how she defeated the mountain, how she escaped, how she survived the fall to earth; and those that wish for stories of the last battle with the ice nation, how she tried to free herself from the king and the vote of no confidence. 

the nights are for quiet. octavia sits on the window ledge, as close to the outside as she can be, while raven sleeps beside her. they watch over her without asking. 

murphy sits with her on the anniversary of the last conclave and lets her draw him. he complains about everything; sitting still, needing to stretch, how young she’s made him look. 

she feels sorry that it falls on him again. he’s been through a lot. 

her hand feels unsteady as it shades in just under his eye at his insistence. his laugh is sweet and she tells him. it’s not a word he agrees with. 

but it’s the last thing she says. 

the charcoal slips from her fingers. murphy thinks it’s laziness, all too used to her by now, and he lets her sink into his shoulder. 

“this isn’t half bad.” he comments. “considering the subject.”

he takes the drawing from her hand, placing it carefully at his side, and she slumps against him. murphy pushes back lightly, expecting her to lift up and-

she doesn’t.

“clarke?”

he touches her face gently like she’ll break. still warm and heavy and-

the peace is there. eyes closed and smile turning up the corners of her mouth. 

“you’re okay.” murphy shifts and leans her against him, sweeping her legs over his lap. “it’s okay.”

but he’s not. murphy shakes with silent tears and he holds her until someone finds them.

under the stars for one last time.

*

to those you have lost.

*

there’s a desperation in her steps. her hands wring and the blue light she walks through finally fades from her eyes after all these years. 

it leaves a golden glow in it’s wake as she walks through the door to the bedroom. candles twinkle, orange against the amber sunlight streaming through the window. 

her heart is full and her body doesn’t carry the aches time has gifted it with.

clarke rushes forward and turns past the bed. oh familiar, oh she remembers-

lexa.

clarke is stunned. shocked still. breathless in the face of her. 

her untangled, unbraided hair falling over her shoulder. her clear, soft skin and glossy eyes. the pinkness of her lips and her lovely hands.

lexa’s expression is forever etched in her mind. “when do you leave?”

clarke’s bottom lip trembles and she steps forward, grasping lexa’s hand, tangling the other in the hair at the base of her neck. lexa runs her hands along her jawline and kisses her like she’s bringing her back to life at the end of her own. 

“never.” tears fall and an overwhelming love crushes her ribs. clarke kisses her back. “i’m never leaving you.”

*

and those you shall soon find.

*


End file.
